


i've got what you want for christmas

by StrangeHormones



Series: kinky christmas twenty-twenty [9]
Category: Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon (2006)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Breathplay, F/M, Face-Fucking, Smut, virgin!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeHormones/pseuds/StrangeHormones
Summary: leslie vernon x virgin!reader | sixty-nine
Relationships: Leslie Vernon/Reader
Series: kinky christmas twenty-twenty [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040285
Kudos: 6





	i've got what you want for christmas

**Author's Note:**

> @horrorslashergirl, day sixteen

Leslie had introduced you to a lot since surviving the other end of his scythe. He had to. It wasn’t as if you had much experience outside on odd fumbling in the backseat of a car, a few dirty movies and magazines you’d pilfered, and your own fingers. Hadn’t that been the point in picking you after all? You’d heard it mumbled, watched the idea ghost over his face bringing a smile in its wake. And you can’t deny there’s something comforting about how enamored he is with the fact that he won’t just be your first, he’ll be your only. Forever was a word Leslie threw around easily, it’s even easier to believe when that dark look takes over his face and he holds you so tight you truly wonder how you haven’t melted into each other yet. 

You hadn’t expected it to be one of those learning moments. In fact, you felt pretty confident on your knees between his spread, jean-clad thighs, backside propped in the air so he could see the way your t-shirt slid down your lower back and exposed your ass. Face planted firmly in his lap. 

Lips working up and down his impossibly hard cock, “You’re gonna have to get that ass up here, baby,” you released him with a pop, your lips and chin wet with spit and precum, “I don’t remember sayin’ stop, did I?” brows furrowed in dramatic questioning that might’ve made you roll your eyes if you weren’t still trying to formulate what exactly he meant.

He spins his index finger in the air slowly in the air, “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You know I’ve seen those magazines you think you’re so good at hidin’.”

Your face heats up but there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity to be embarrassed because he’s pushing your head back down and your body starts to inch of its own accord. It isn’t graceful, your limbs are clunky, trying to keep your mind on the movements of your mouth. IT makes you thankful for his confidence and hidden strength, grabbing you when you’re close enough and manhandling you into place. It’s a bit awkward, accounting for his body, the new angle that saps most of your confidence. It’s too reminiscent of that first time you’d fumbled around with your mouth and he’d spent the entire time guiding-

His thumbs spread your lips and he licked a long strip from your clit to your entrance, dragging a moan out of you that has you falling forward with surprise, pushing him deeper into your throat. It flips some switch in him, you’ve had his head between your thighs before but this was more like a starving man. His nose pressed tight against your weeping hole while he sucked and slurped on your clit. Your eyes roll, moaning, and you’re trying to focus but it’s so hard. All you can really do is bob, up and down. It’s doesn’t feel like enough. But it’s hard to think about anything but the way he makes you feel. Fire shooting across your body when he grabs your ass with one hand, his arm wrapping around the small of your back, and pulling you even closer. You dig your fingers into the seam of his jeans at the thigh, your nose and mouth pressed into the harsh metal of his zipper as you choose the only option that has been left to you. You take him as far as you can and lose yourself in the way he sucks your soul from your body straight through your pussy.

“There we go,” he coos, sticky kisses brushed along your inner thighs, “Remember not to think so much,” nudging the tip of your straining clit with his nose, “We’re connected. You know, just like I know,” his voice lowering, breath brushing along you and you clamp down on nothing, “See,” his thumb slipping inside you, giving you a brief moment of friction that is stolen with a fight from your tightening walls, “Not yet, baby, not yet.”

You might’ve begged, but you whine around your mouthful when his tongue slips inside you and shake when his other thumb works at your sopping nub. It won’t take long, it never does, but especially now. Vulnerable, exposed, the only thing stopping you from screaming is him in your throat as you desperately pant through your nose. You’re dizzy, from his assault on your sense, lack of air, the fact someone like him would want you so bad that death had become entwined in the feeling. When he slips back down, nipping your lips until he could ever so gently roll your clit between his teeth and finally slip a finger inside you. It’s all you need.

Screaming around him, the blackened edges of your vision gives way to stars. You choke, sure you’ve bruised his legs and hindered his breathing with the way your thighs tighten around him. He doesn’t stop destroying your senses even you fall limp against him, readying yourself best as can be managed for his assault on your throat. 

It’s not what you expect. There are no soft, awkward thrusts from beneath you or the firm hold of the back of your head while he shows you the best way to take of him. This is primal. The Leslie Vernon that holds the scythe and splatters blood across your skin. A part of you wonders if you’ll have passed out from lack of oxygen and overwrought nerves. He thrusts into your throat as he will inside you one day, pistoning at a brutal pace that makes tears spring to your eyes. All you can do is lay underneath him, moaning and desperate. Your next orgasm is sudden, violent, making you seize and shudder underneath him, trying to say his name even as he fills you because you don’t know anything else. The third and fourth are too mangled to really separate and after that you lose track of any sense of reality. 

The world is slipping, your eyes closing, lost in everything that is him. It occurs to you, right here, right now, that maybe he had always intended it to be this way. Letting you drift from his world on a comforting cloud of pleasure. It doesn’t sound so bad when you think about it. It brings you rising again, the small of your back lifting, fingers clenching the bed’s edges weakly, just one more. 

“Just one more, baby,” the sudden rush of air burns your lungs blissfully, your mind static, there’s this. Only this, “I always knew you were the one.”

His cum spatters down your neck and across the front of your t-shirt, shaft brushing against your cheek and nose till he’s shuddering over you, softening cock twitching. As if he wasn’t sure he was ready to be done. You can’t imagine your body taking any more but Leslie had often proved you wrong. It wouldn’t be the most surprising thing to happen today. But he flips his position, laying next to you and pulling your shaking body against his. Hefting your leg across his own, the smell of your own arousal filling the air when he pressed soft kisses to your temple.

When you breath evened, the sweat had cooled, and you had kissed your own taste from each other’s lips you dared to speak, “Am I ready yet?”

He grinned at you, “You know, you make it really hard being this eager and all but,” he paused, nudging your nose with his, “I think we’re almost there,” forehead to forehead, “You trust me don’t you?”

Everything about how you got here says you shouldn’t, “Of course,” but he was right.

You were connected. 


End file.
